


Defining Your Terms

by alocalband



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Roommates, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 13:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alocalband/pseuds/alocalband
Summary: In the end, they don’t get together the way that Nursey ever imagined it.





	Defining Your Terms

They don’t get together their junior year.

It doesn’t even occur to Nursey that it’s an option then. He’s too busy playing hockey, and fitting in a couple extra class credits so that he finishes his double major on time, and learning how to be roommates with the one man who drives him up the wall more than any other person on the planet.

To be fair, Dex feels the same way about him. No matter their differences, the two of them have always been on exactly the same page about each other.

It’s why they play such good hockey when paired together on the ice. It’s why they gravitate towards each other in a crowd to finish whatever argument they didn’t get a chance to earlier. And it’s why, surprisingly, they can occupy the same space so well as roommates.

Nursey doesn’t expect it. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Dex doesn’t either. But they take to living together like it’s just a natural extension of their hockey partnership.

Sometimes it feels like their relationship will never really settle. Will always be changing, and growing. Will always be... indefinable.

And somewhere in the quiet spaces of junior year, when they’re studying together in their room, or whispering to each other in the dark as they fall asleep, or saving the last piece of pie for the other after long days, Nursey realizes that he honestly can’t think of a label for what they are. He wants to say they’re friends now--that they were a _kind_ of friends before--but no word feels right, not even that one.

“It’s important to define your terms,” Nursey tells the pitch-black bottom of Dex’s bunk in the middle of a Saturday night. He’s half stoned and half drunk and one hundred percent certain he’s not going to get a response back from Dex, who only had one beer the whole night and is probably already asleep.

But the blankets in the bed above Nursey rustle, and the mattress springs creak, and then a pale, freckled arm is being lowered over the side to offer him a bottle of water. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about right now, Nurse. Drink.”

Nursey props himself up on an elbow and drinks, ignoring the rush of warmth that spreads out from the center of his chest at the easy, familiar gesture.

“I don’t know how to define us. As a term,” he tells Dex seriously between gulps of water. “What’s our definition?”

Dex’s groan is like an audible roll of his eyes. Nursey can see it vividly in his own head. “We’re people, Derek, not words. Finish your water and go to sleep.”

“I think we can be both.”

Dex snorts. “You would.”

Nursey hiccups. “How do I know what you are to me, if what you are to me keeps changing? How do I know that what I feel is real, if I can’t describe that feeling in words?” He’s aware that he slurs at least half of that, and that the other half probably didn’t make sense, but he finishes his water and decides not to care that Dex isn’t responding to any of it.

It’s only after Nursey’s tossed the now empty bottle aside and has got his head back on his pillow, the edges of sleep encroaching like a breath of fresh air after that claustrophobic party, that Dex sighs softly and mutters, “It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Nurse.”

“Is that what we are? Pretty?” Nursey mumbles, quickly tipping over the edge into unconsciousness.

“Yeah. Alright. We’re ‘pretty.’ That’s our definition. Pretty and fucked and all of the shit in between. We’re too many words to even list them all, Nursey.” A pause. Then, quieter, “And I bet you love it.”

If Nursey were more awake, he’d agree.

***

They don’t get together their senior year either.

Though it does occur to Nursey that it just might be an option. Maybe. If they’re lucky.

They also don’t date anyone _else_ that year. Again, they’ve always been on the same page about each other. Whether they’re willing to admit it out loud or not.

Dex isn’t captain, that honor went to Whiskey, but he runs the Haus that year as if he were. His toolbox gets used daily and occupies a place of honor on top of the entertainment center. The entire kitchen is his domain now that Bitty’s graduated, and he doesn’t hesitate to use this newfound power over starving freshman newly away from home and uncertain how the dining hall works. His formally typed-up rules and regulations for the sin bin gets duct taped to the wall beside the original Haus bylaws.

Whiskey runs the show on the ice and in the locker room, but in the Haus, the only approval anyone seeks out is William Poindexter’s.

Nursey occupies a more ambiguous place on the team hierarchy. He has seniority, sure, and is a better player than all of the lower classmen combined, but they all know that hockey doesn’t come first for him anymore.

It comes in a close second, sure, but what comes in first this year is getting into grad school.

“Don’t be nice to me right now,” Nursey announces as he enters their room, throws his backpack at the wall, and faceplants onto his bed.

Dex barely even looks up from his computer. “What the hell ever gave you the impression that I would be?”

If Nursey were in a better frame of mind, and if he weren’t terrified of disrupting the new status quo between them, he would start listing all of the millions of reasons.

Dex takes care of him when he’s drunk, even when not assigned to the duty. Dex hides at least half of whatever he’s just baked in the back of the fridge for Nursey to find when he gets home from class. Dex has Nursey’s back on the ice so thoroughly that he keeps nearly getting ejected from games for the number of fights he starts on Nursey’s behalf...

The list goes on. The list is as ever changing and indefinable as they are.

Dex _cares,_ Nursey has come to realize. He cares with his whole being, but he only really knows how to show that caring through _actions_ rather than through words.

Which is not something Nursey has ever had the pleasure of experiencing before.

The thing is, Nursey’s family is as much about words as he is. There are a lot of “I love you’s” thrown about, but they each lead their own very separate lives. The support is unconditional and strong, Nursey doesn’t know how he’d ever operate in this world without knowing he has that support behind him. And they love with their entire hearts, his parents and sister just as romantic and soft in the middle as Derek Nurse always pretends he isn’t. But they pride their independence and ambition more than any “antiquated familial obligations,” or whatever the hell his sister likes to call it when one of them remembers to go buy a Christmas tree that year.

Nursey tries to reciprocate Dex’s actions in all the fumbling ways he knows how. Though it’s difficult when he’s also trying so hard not to rock the boat. Everything between them feels so fragile sometimes, with no confirmed label to hold it all together.

“Harvard doesn’t want me,“ Nursey grumbles into his pillow.

There’s a long enough silence that maybe Dex didn’t hear him. Or is pretending not to care, because sometimes that’s a thing they do, to save themselves from having to admit that the reverse is so very very true.

Then the bed dips beside him and a large, comforting hand comes down to rest on Nursey’s shoulder. “Fuck Harvard.”

But Nursey doesn’t want to hear it. Harvard wasn’t his top choice, but it did serve the dual purpose of making his extended family shit bricks in pride and also putting him in the same school as Shitty, who he misses more than he ever lets anyone know.

Nursey huffs, though it comes out sounding more wounded than he intends.

Dex’s grip on his shoulder tightens, fingers digging into the muscle. “Alright. I’m giving you one hour to wallow. And then you’re coming downstairs to eat whatever the hell I can manage to put together without heading out to Murder Stop n’ Shop, and we’re watching eighty billion hours of One Tree Hill in a row.”

Nursey can’t help the small smile on his face at that, but luckily it’s concealed by the bedding. “...Eighty billion?”

“Give or take. I figure you’re not very good with numbers, so you won’t be able to complain if I fall asleep after three episodes.”

Nursey reaches out and shoves Dex, hard enough that Dex almost stumbles off the bed. Almost. Dex just holds on all the tighter to Nursey, and casually repositions himself like he was expecting that. He probably was.

“One hour,” he warns. Then hesitates, leaning forward like he’s going to... Nursey doesn’t know what. But he leans in a little and then freezes for a length of time that has Nursey holding his breath, and then he gets up and heads downstairs to the kitchen.

***

They definitely don’t get together that first year after college. They're both far too busy to even entertain the idea.

But they do... dance around it. Flirt with it. Tease the edges of their carefully built dynamic to the point that Chowder refuses to hang out with them both at the same time anymore, and Bitty’s expression is set in permanent _“Oh, honey,”_ mode whenever either of them visit him and Jack.

Nursey works on his masters at Columbia, and Dex gets a job at a startup in lower Manhattan, and neither of them talk about how they just _happened_ to end up in the same city.

They don’t live together anymore though. And it’s _hell_ , but neither of them will admit it.

Not that either of their new living situations is all that bad, really. It’s just that they’ve grown so used to existing in each other’s pockets, that suddenly not doing so feels a little like losing a limb.

Nursey scouts out a roommate from the list of students who will be in his program with him, and Dex gets a place with Ford’s brother, who’s in his senior year at NYU and takes to Dex as immediately and easily as Ford was able to.

Nursey would be jealous, but. Well. That’s not something he allows himself to ever be.

Also, it would be stupid of him to indulge in the emotion. Dex and Matt are roommates, they like each other well enough, but they barely hang out together due to lack of free time.

And whatever free time Dex does have? He gives to Nursey.

Nursey knows this, and a part of him is always tempted to comment on it, whether just to show off the fact that he somehow won this privilege, or to make fun of Dex for being such an open book about it. But he refrains, half because he’s not a complete asshole, and half because, well, whatever free time Nursey has? He gives to Dex.

“Come over here and entertain me.”

Dex snorts a laugh on the other end of the line. Nursey grins up at the ceiling above him from where he’s stretched out across his bed.

“It’s nearly midnight and I have to be up at ass o’clock tomorrow for a staff meeting. Entertain yourself, Nurse.”

“If you were that worried about losing sleep, you wouldn’t even be on the phone with me right now.”

“I’ve been trying to hang up on you for twenty minutes.”

“Liar. Come over here and watch House Hunters with me. I’m bored.”

“You’re only bored because you’re avoiding studying and feeling too guilty about it to do anything other than stare at your ceiling and whine at me. I refuse to enable you.”

It’s honestly scary how well they know each other at this point. Nursey sits up and stares at the daunting stack of books on his desk instead. “Fine, hang up on me already then.”

There’s a moment of quiet, but Nursey knows Dex is still there. He doesn’t know how he knows it, but he does.

“...I can’t sleep.”

The thing is, Nursey can’t either. They’ve been falling asleep in the same room for so long now, that even several months into their current living arrangements, it feels like something’s not quite _right_ every time Nursey’s head hits the pillow at night.

This is the first time either of them has come clean about the fact, though.

Nursey clears his throat and bolsters his courage. “Yeah, I know, man. Me neither.”

“And here I thought Rans and Holster had set the standard for codependency.”

“Hey now, we aren’t _that_ bad.”

“No, but we’re... something.”

They are definitely _something_. But it isn’t a something that feels entirely ready yet. It isn’t a something that Nursey knows how to name.

***

They _almost_ get together their second year away from Samwell.

Almost.

Dex still pays rent at his place with Matt. But Matt’s got a girlfriend now who’s practically a third roommate, and Nursey’s moved into his own place, and so it only _makes sense_ that Dex stays over as often as he does. It’s only _practical,_ and not at all weird, that Nursey’s made room in his closet for some of Dex’s things, that there’s a second toothbrush in the bathroom and a second set of towels hanging up by the shower, and that Nursey’s futon never actually gets turned back into the couch he’d originally meant for it to be because Dex sleeps on it more nights than not.

Chowder claims that they’re both the most idiotic and stubborn people to have ever been involved in a relationship that neither is willing to acknowledge is a relationship. “You’re basically married at this point, and you’ve never even kissed.”

Nursey thinks Chowder’s just got marriage on the brain, since his own to Farmer will be coming up as soon as the current hockey season is over.

Chowder’s not wrong about the rest of it, though. And Nursey worries that if he and Dex wait any longer, they’ll be seriously tempting fate.

“We should go get dinner,” Nursey says.

Dex nods, distracted, his eyes on the paperwork in front of him. “Yeah, okay. Just give me another twenty minutes to finish this.”

“No. I mean.” Nursey sighs. “ _We should go get dinner_.”

Dex looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Okay? I’m hungry too, man, I just really need to get this done first.”

Nursey drops his head into his hands with a groan.

He isn’t prepared to give up after barely one attempt, but he’s also not entirely sure he’s prepared to be any more forward than this. He really doesn’t want to fuck up what they already have, or fuck up the beginnings of whatever they become to each other next. They’re still so fucking indefinable, and Nursey is a little terrified at taking any steps towards turning that into something more settled and known.

“Nurse?”

When Nursey looks back up, Dex is a lot closer than he was before, out of his chair and crouched down in front of where Nursey is sitting. He’s biting at his bottom lip, and when he reaches a hand out, he hesitates uncharacteristically, before letting it fall onto Nursey’s knee.

“Derek,” Dex says, quieter. “I... I’m not... I’ve been trying, but I...” He struggles to find the words, looking lost.

Nursey’s got his back, though, now and forever. And he knows Dex, he knows _them_ , and he trusts that they’ll always be on the same page about each other. Even if they’re sometimes at different points of being able to be open about it.

Slowly, with far more care and caution than he’s ever used when it comes to his generally clumsy limbs, he puts his own hand on Dex’s jaw, fingertips brushing the edges of his neatly trimmed red hair.

Dex goes very very still and very very tense, but he doesn’t flinch or pull away. He just holds Nursey’s gaze and looks all the more lost.

Somethings you can’t unlearn overnight. Somethings you can’t even fully unlearn in six years. But Dex is trying. He _wants_ to.

“Don’t worry about it, alright?” Nursey tells him, brushing his thumb gently back and forth over the freckles on Dex’s cheek.

“But--”

“I’m not going anywhere, Poindexter. Take your time.”

He’s expecting a relieved expression, or something maybe hopeful? Instead he gets Dex’s old hyper-focused and overly determined defenseman face. His “no one fucks with our goalie and gets away with it” face.

“You deserve better than that, Nurse.” Dex’s tone is so commanding, Nursey actually believes him for a moment.

“I don’t deserve to get what I want?”

“You deserve not to have to wait on me.”

“Well, too bad. Because what I want is exactly what I’m determined to wait around for. It’s been years, man. You don’t think I’m good for a few more?”

Dex’s eyes have gone glassy. Nursey pulls him a little closer and presses his lips against Dex’s forehead.

Dex sighs shakily. And then gets up and goes back to his work. “Give me another ten and we can go find food. _I’m_ buying.”

Nursey smiles at him. “Sure thing, buddy.”

***

In the end, Nursey doesn’t have to wait all that much longer.

In the end, they don’t get together the way that Nursey ever imagined it.

It’s not an argument that turns into a kiss, it’s not a fight that turns into a confession, and it’s not a moment of time that Nursey will want to try to write down later in an attempt to find his voice, his real one, within the confines of the scene, instead of whatever mask he’s put on that day.

Nursey’s voice hasn’t been faked or hidden when it comes to Dex in a long time.

Dex’s voice hasn’t either. Which is maybe why Nursey should stop being so surprised every time Dex throws such blatant honesty at him, with all the same matter-of-fact dryness he says anything else.

“You sure it’s okay that I’m here?” Nursey asks for the millionth time as they unload their luggage from out of the back of their rental car. His eyes keep darting up to the snow-covered house before them, its multicolored Christmas lights twinkling cheerily.

“For the last time, Derek, why the hell wouldn’t it be?” But Dex doesn’t sound frustrated with him so much as fondly exasperated, and more than a little confused.

“Because it’s Christmas, dude. And I know for a fact that Poindexters get all aggressively family-oriented during the holidays. I don’t want to intrude on that. Hell, I’m surprised _you_ want me to intrude on that.”

Dex frowns and shuts the trunk. “It’s not ‘intruding’ if you’re family too.”

“Okay, I think I missed the memo where we found out I’m related to you.”

“That’s not-- Look, my brother brought his fiancé, and my uncle brought his foster kids. Family isn’t just about blood, you know? It’s about who you love.”

Nursey’s breath hitches, his mouth goes dry, and he nearly drops the duffel bag he’s got hefted over one shoulder. “Wait. I thought... You really...”

It’s only been three months since the one time they brought any of this up. And Nursey hasn’t exactly been walking on eggshells around Dex for that entire time, but he has been cautious. Present, always, but a little guarded with his heart, just in case.

And now here Dex is, admitting to these emotions like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him. Like they’re indisputable facts and figures, rather than the vague, indescribable mess Nursey’s been poking at for years.

Dex shuffles his feet, and a blush colors the apples of cheeks that were already rosy from the cold. “I’ve been working on some stuff. Talking with someone. I didn’t want to make you wait forever. I told you, you deserve better than that.”

“Will, I meant it when I said I was okay with--”

“I know. But I wanted to do this for me just as much as for you, so. It’s a little bit selfish, too.”

Nursey doesn’t know what to say.

Dex nods back over his shoulder at his childhood home. A curtain in the main window moves, like perhaps they’ve got a bit of an audience. “I told them about you, about _me_ , a couple weeks ago? They promised they’d be good about it. Well, my brother’s gonna be a dick no matter what, that’s just who he is. But Mom said she’d make sure he was only a dick about the usual shit, and not about this.”

“You told your family you were in love with me before you bothered to tell _me_?” Nurse gapes a little, and then huffs a stunned, disbelieving laugh.

Dex turns even redder. “I guess I thought you knew?”

“Oh man, we have got to work on our communication skills. Use your words, Poindexter. Define your freaking terms.”

“Oh, shut up. _I love you._ There, happy?”

Nursey beams. “Euphoric.”

Dex rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

They head into the house, and are greeted with smiles and good will, like maybe Dex wasn’t kidding that Nursey really does belong here with him. Dex’s family isn’t nearly as standoffish as Nursey feared. His brother is definitely an asshole, though, but the guy makes a genuine effort to include Nursey in all of his crass jokes and douchey needling of his younger brother, like it’s his way of offering a weird kind of approval. Nursey doesn’t know how to feel about that other than to smile at Dex’s obvious relief.

They share Dex’s childhood bedroom, but, by silent, mutual agreement, don’t bother to blow up the air mattress they’re given.

“This feels a little backwards,” Nursey says with a playful smirk as he climbs into bed. “We haven’t even kissed yet.”

Dex snorts. “Well we’ve done everything else backwards. Moved in together before even liking each other. Basically started dating before admitting we even wanted to.”

Nursey pulls the covers up over his shoulders and reaches an arm out beneath them to pull Dex in closer. Dex goes willingly, placing gentle hands on Nursey’s chest and hip. 

_Gentle_ , but not hesitant. Careful, but not uncertain.

“Exchanging _I love you’s_ before even talking about getting together?” Nursey adds.

“I’m sorry, remind me again when you said it back?”

Nursey cradles Dex’s face in his hands and looks him square in the eyes. “I love you,” he says. Honest, and definite, and settled.

Dex blushes and ducks his head, but ends up just nuzzling into Nursey’s palm, and then blushing harder.

Nursey doesn’t get a chance to chirp him for it. Because then Dex looks back up and kisses him.

It’s like... the experience of fireworks, rather than the fireworks themselves. No rockets go off, no explosions behind Nursey’s eyes. Instead, it’s the calm and safety of being on the ground, surrounded by loved ones. It’s the shared delight in watching the show, made worthwhile by the mere fact that it is shared.

“I love you,” Nursey says again, digging his fingers into Dex’s hips as Dex starts worrying a mark into the dip of Nursey’s collarbone.

Dex bites down a little, and then soothes the mark with his tongue. He pulls back just enough to reply in wet, hot breaths against Nursey’s neck. “I love you, too. I... That’s what we are, alright? That’s our definition.”

Nursey loses all ability to _words_ after that, but it’s okay because they’ve said all the ones they need to for now. And waking up early the next morning to Dex’s brother pounding on their thankfully locked bedroom door, yelling that Christmas breakfast is _not optional you fucking losers_ , finds him happier than he’s been in a very long time.

“To think,” Nursey says, lazily tracing his fingers back and forth over each of Dex’s ribs, while Dex manfully pretends he’s not ticklish. “Four short years ago I still thought you were a Republican.”

Dex unsuccessfully stifles a laugh, and then shoves Nursey’s hands away so that he can wrap Nursey up in his arms, burying his face in Nursey’s shoulder. “To think, four short years ago I still thought you were an asshole. Oh, wait.”

Nursey snickers. And then presses a soft kiss to Dex’s temple. “Will your brother kill me if I go back to sleep for a couple more hours?”

“No, but my mom might.”

“Ugh, fine. The things I do for Poindexters.” Nursey shoves himself up into a sitting position, already mourning how much more comfortable he had been in this unfamiliar bed that's too small by half for the both of them, wrapped up in a stupidly in love William Poindexter.

Luckily, Dex immediately pulls him back down, and rearranges their limbs until they find a position that’s both tangled and semi-comfortable. “Screw it. They can wait a few more minutes.”

Nursey laughs, delighted. He doesn’t even want to go back to sleep anymore, just hold onto Dex for a little longer, and be held by him in return. It feels like coming home. No. Like making his home a person instead of a place.

And that’s what they are to each other, Nursey thinks, kissing every heated inch of Dex’s blushing skin. They are each other’s homes. Each other's anchors, compasses, and lighthouses.

Steady, and solid, and definite. 


End file.
